


Wounded

by hammy_ham



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fear of Death, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, secret agent AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-11-28 20:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11425425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hammy_ham/pseuds/hammy_ham
Summary: (Based off of jamsandhams story on Instagram)Is he going to be alright?I don't know...but it doesn't look good.





	1. Collapsed

**Author's Note:**

> Laurens is a doctor in this story and not a field agent like the rest of them.

It was a calm Tuesday afternoon in the file room when things started to go downhill. Jefferson and I had been sorting through papers since the dark hours of the morning till late in the afternoon, when I noticed something about him just wasn't right. 

"I'm gonna grab some food. You want anything?" I asked closing the file drawer. 

"I'll just come with you," he said, leaning on his cane more than usual. I shrugged, not thinking anything of it. I had figured it was just a gody fashion statement. 

We had gotten no more than a few feet into the hallway when I heard a loud thud behind me. I turned around to see Jefferson on the floor, clutching his leg, moaning in agony. 

"What the _hell?_ I yelled running over to him. I tried to pick him up and lean him on my shoulder, but he was too tall for me to support. I had to call Laurens and tell him to bring a wheelchair. 

He was there minutes later, sprinting down the hall with a chair in front of him. 

"What happened?" He asked out of breath as he frantically tried to lift him into the chair. 

"I don't know. One minute he was fine, the next he just fell." 

We took off down the hall towards the exam rooms in the base, Laurens nearly collapsing when we arrived. 

"Thomas?" He asked he asked trying to find a pulse. Jefferson tried to tell him he was fine, but the second he tried to stand, he collapsed back into the chair. Laurens looked at his watch and then down to Jeffersons leg. 

"Has it been on all day?" He asked urgently. All Thomas could do was nod as sweat poured down his face. 

John sighed and told me to help move him to the exam table. Jefferson let out a groan as we picked him up. 

"It needs to come off," said Laurnes. "Youve had it on far too long. You know better than that Thomas."

Jefferson glared at me before he finally nodded for him to start. Laurens rolled up his pant leg to reveal an prosthetic leg, amputated at the knee. I looked up at Jefferson, who couldn't look me in the eye. John rested the leg on th table next to him, and examined the bandages around what remained of his knee with a frown before standing. 

"The wound needs redressing. Take these and I'll be right back," he said handing Jefferson some pain medication before leaving. 

"Not a word about this," Jefferson said angrily towards me. All I could do was nod as I watched him. His breathing was labored, and he was covered in sweat. 

"Are you doing alright? I mean I'm not the expert in this or anything but is there anything I can do for you?" He looked at me stunned, but didn't say a word before Laurens walked in with a roll of gauze.


	2. A Memory

"It shouldn't be bleeding," John said as he looked at the wound. "We amputated this almost a year ago." 

He looked up at Jefferson, who looked awful. John took his wrist to feel for a pulse. "Lie back," he instructed. "There's something wrong with your leg."

He pulled out a stethoscope and listened to his heart. He sighed as he stood up and began rummaging through the closet. He came out with an oxygen tank. 

"Your heart rate and breathing aren't great, Thomas. The infection in your le is moving too fast." He gestured for me to help Jefferson put the mask on as he returned to the closet. He emerged with a heart monitor and an IV stand, and set them up. He had me inform Washington about the situation. 

"I'm going to move you to the main part of the medical wing after hours so no one knows you're here," John muttered to himself. "Alex, stay here with him. If his heart rate drops below fifty, call me immediately," he instructed before going back to work. 

"It was on a mission," Jefferson said, breaking the silence. I looked over at him as he moved the mask down to his chin. "We were in the middle of a gun fight, and a bullet went straight through my knee. Laurens and Washington had to drag me out of the compound after everyone was dead, and by that point it was infected. Laurens had to preform an emergency amputation right then and there." He shuddered, looking down at what remained. "Not even Madison knows. And I swear to god Hamilton if you tell another soul what I just told you I'll kill you where you stand."

Washington came in a few hours later, and he was alarmed by the sight. He didn't say a word as John began explaining to us that Jefferson would be moved by stretcher down to the main area, where he could be watched twenty-four seven. 

The three of us lifted him onto the stretcher, and I explained to Washington what happened as we walked.


	3. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson's POV

_The bullets flew by us, each one barely missing. The battle seemed like it would never end. The five of us were quickly running out of ammunition, and the enemies were gaining ground. My position was compromised, I had to retreat._

_As I threw myself behind another barricade, a searing, blinding pain radiated through my leg. I felt my knee shatter inside of me as I screamed out in agony._

_After what felt like an eternity, I felt myself being dragged away. I opened my eyes to Washington holding me down, as Laurens tried to cut the leg off my pants. He stuck a syringe in my leg, and the last thing I saw was him pulling a blade from his bag._

I woke up the next day to my leg missing from above the knee. I told everyone I was ill, and nobody knew about the months of physical therapy with Laurens in my own home, as he trained me to walk with a prosthetic leg. 

When I came back to work almost six months after the mission, I thought people would be suspicious. I thought they'd see my cane and instantly know something was wrong. But no one ever brought it up. Not even Madison. 

When Hamilton found out I figured my life was over. I figured he'd go tell the whole agency that poor old Thomas was a cripple, but he didn't. He kept his mouth shut. 

He would come sit with me sometimes, usually just to complain about having to do all the filing by himself. He would sometimes offer to do things for me, and usually I would tell him to just fuck off, but part of me appreciated it. 

Washington would come brief me on mission reports when he had them. He knew I missed working on the field. 

I don't think Laurens meant for me to hear him that day, but I did. I heard the three of them gather outside the room, as Laurens explained to them what was going on.

"The antibiotics aren't working fast enough," he explained with a sigh. "I'm doing everything I can, but I'm afraid he's just too weak for me to try anymore medications."

I felt a tidal wave of fear wash over me. My heart started to race, and I heard Laurens swear under his breath as he realized I heard him. 

I never told him about my anxiety medications, and I wish I had. I felt my body go into panic mode as he rushed into the room, and tried to calm me down. 

**_I'm going to die._ **


	4. Antibodies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson's POV

Laurens dashed around the room, frantically digging through cabinets and drawers trying to find any sort of medication to calm me down. 

"Clonazepam," I muttered, trying to get his attention. "I-I take Clonazepam." 

I saw him freeze for a minute before sprinting out of the room. He yelled something at Hamilton as he passed, and he soon followed. I felt my whole body shake, like I was having a seizure. My mind raced, and I didn't even notice Hamilton trying his best to strap me to the bed. 

Laurens ran back into the room out of breath, and told me I had to take a pill. I couldn't focus. He had to force the damn thing down my throat as Hamilton frantically fastened the final strap around my arm. 

A wave of relief drowned me as the world seemed to slow. My body relaxed into the bed, and I saw Laurens collapse to his knees with relief. Hamilton was staring at the heart monitor, looking anxious as it slowed back to a normal rhythm. 

If it was a secret at that point, it wasn't after that. It didn't take long before everyone knew about Laurens and Hamilton sprinting through the medical wing, anxiously looking for Clonazepam. Within days, nearly every agent knew something was wrong. 

"Why didn't you tell me when you started?" Laurens asked me a few days later. "You could've been in serious danger if I would've given you the wrong drug."

I hadn't told him about my PTSD and anxiety, because I figured it would've been obvious. I can't watch a goddamn action movie without holding back tears and desperately hiding tremors. Hell, my heart rate skyrocketed at a fucking firecracker. 

But I wasn't the only one with mental problems. Hamilton has a breakdown every thunderstorm. He told me the story of the hurricane he survived, and how he was trapped under his own roof for days. Last I heard, Laurens controlled his medication. Hell, Laurens has some problems of his own. But it's not like I can blame the poor guy. 

I felt myself getting sicker and sicker by the day. Laurens tried more and more medication when he saw the others weren't working, and I just kept getting worse. I could hardly breathe by the end of the week. That Friday, Hamilton came into my room. He was crying.


End file.
